July 4th 1941
Time passed after Hermione's trip to Ebbets Field and her chance meeting with Steve Rogers.
Four days after their shared baseball game, Hermione received her first letter from her newest friend. Soon after, they both began a habit of swapping sheets of information about themselves as soon as the post had arrived.
The weeks passed and Hermione only saw Steve twice after their original meeting. The most recent meeting had been another baseball game at Ebbets Field, but the time before that had just been a small luncheon between the two with a lengthy discussion of art, the origin of the baseball, and Hermione's favorite blends of tea.
Through conversation both face to face and through letters, they never intentionally spoke of their past. Hermione figured, never boldly asking, that Steve's parents had both passed at some point as he had no other obvious family he lived with or was close to. He did have a current roommate and best friend 'Bucky' however, and Hermione knew that he considered his friend like family as Hermione had considered Harry, and then later Ron, her brothers.
Steve probably thought she had lost her family at some point in the War as well. They were carefully becoming closer friends, but Hermione knew that she would have to figure out some sort of backstory soon if she really was going to spend the rest of her life, and continue to build relationships, here in this decade.
But besides their separate histories, there was no end to the things she learned when she conversed with her newest friend. Every time she finished reading or writing a letter back, Hermione felt a little less lonely and a little less homesick.
During that time, Hermione and Dr. Erskine mourned the passing birthday of his youngest child together, and later celebrated a small success in a stimulant formula regarding manipulation in myosatellite cells, otherwise known to Hermione as muscle stem cells for the 'Super Soldier Formula' as Peggy was beginning to call it.
Animal testing would begin soon, and then after that, Colonel Phillips would be choosing a select candidate to become the first experimental soldier for the formula.
Currently, Hermione wrapped a brown fabric and brass fitted airplane luggage container carefully around with shiny blue wrapping paper that was dotted with little white and red stars.
In one of her most previous letters from Steve, he had mentioned that his birthday was approaching. Filled with the new information, Hermione had immediately set off to find a suitable present for her newest friend. She smiled when she had noticed his birthday was on the same day as America's date of independence, as she found the coincidence to be very fitting.
Despite Steve's short stature, Hermione had soon found during their months of correspondence that her friend had an enormous heart, a fierce sense of justice, and an unbending nature in what he thought was the right thing to do. He was also exceptionally honest, loyal to a fault, and very observant despite his weak eyesight.
In some of these recurring aspects, Steve reminded her of Harry.
Shaking off the familiar sorrow that came with memories of her old life, Hermione smiled down at one of the two gifts she had bought Steve; a Royal Portable Typewriter. A new black finished typewriter that was outfitted in a brown and brass luggage case that had grooves on the lid of the case so that the typewriter couldn't fall out, even if the case was open. Though it was not the first thing a turning 23 year old wanted, Hermione knew, it was something that she thought Steve could use for his odd ended jobs around New York. He often found work with newspapers or small offices with assistant positions, and Hermione hoped her gift would help him grow those opportunities while keeping him out of the open weather of the often harsh seasons in New York.
Another thing that Hermione had learned about her friend was that although his spirit was powerful and enduring, his physical body was not. He broke bones easily, got sick often, and was always slowly healing from one scrape or another that he had narrowly gotten out of.
Hermione hoped that with her new birthday present to him, he would be able to stay indoors at a nice office somewhere and stay out of trouble or sickness for more than two weeks at a time.
A very high hope, she knew grudgingly, as the man seemed to be in the middle of something every time they exchanged letters or got the chance to meet. The last time she had seen him for example, was less than a month ago for another baseball game at Gibbons field and Steve had been sporting a black eye, a split lip, and a small limp through his left leg.
She sighed in exasperation at the memory and placed a bright red bow on top of her newly wrapped gift carefully. Hermione critiqued her work, slowly turning the present around on all sides before turning to leave by pulling on her stockings and shoes and then running to fetch a hat and Steve's second smaller gift that had already been wrapped with the same paper.
Hermione hadn't told Steve that she would be giving him gifts for his birthday, or that she would be visiting him at all today. It was all a surprise that she had been setting up for the past few weeks and was anxious to see his face when she arrived at his apartment for the very first time. Not that Hermione was the type to barge in unannounced, but she felt that this kind of surprise would be forgiven.
She released the curlers from her hair, set them, and then pinned her summer sun hat to the back of her head. She retrieved the matching purse to her light colored summer dress, and pressed lipstick to her lips before she took hold of the two presents and left her room.
Peggy was surprisingly home when she entered the living area. She smiled at her and nodded at the gifts. "To Steve's?" she asked knowingly although she had never met the man.
Hermione smiled back. "I'll be home this afternoon when I'm done."
Peggy waved her off and returned to the file on the armchair she sat on. "Have fun."
Hermione waved as she closed the front door behind her and made her way to the first floor. She hailed a cab almost as soon as she had placed her foot on the edge of the street and arrived in front of Steve's apartment building a little more than half an hour later.
Steve's apartment was on the rundown side of Brooklyn. There were parts of the main street that were paved unevenly, the paint on the buildings hadn't seen a finish in over a decade, and the buildings were all squished together like they were trying to hold as many people inside with as little room as physically able.
Hermione made her way up to one of the decaying apartment buildings, blatantly ignoring the side eyes and curious looks from passersbys at her matching dress, purse, and shiny shoes.
She found the stairs and took them to the third floor and began her hunt for Steve's door. After a wrong hallway and a few left turns later, Hermione found apartment number 387. Steve's apartment based off of their letters.
Hermione exchanged the presents in her hands to one arm and knocked sharply on the door several times.
There was a curse from inside the apartment and the sound of stumbling feet. Hermione barely had time to lower her hand before the door was thrown backwards and a tall man with dark hair stepped into view.
He was handsome, Hermione immediately noticed. His short dark hair fell in soft waves around his temples, with bright cerulean eyes surrounded by a set of thick lashes and a jawline made from a Greek statue. He was broad shouldered and at least 187 centimeters, or 6'2 in the American system with lean muscles clearly cut from under his thin summer t-shirt.
He studied her in surprise just as Hermione stared back at him. His eyes found the gifts in her arms and he leaned against the door frame with an easy smile that she knew most women would probably melt under. "A dame handing out presents in Brooklyn? Must be Christmas in July."
"It's actually birthday presents. I'm here for Steve. Steve Rogers? I'm sure that this is his address."
He blinked in surprise. "For Steve?" His eyes did a once over from her toes to her hat that made Hermione blush fiercely, and then he grinned. "You must be Hermione."
Now it was Hermione's turn to be surprised. "You know me?" She knew of this man of course, Steve spoke of him often, but she hadn't realized the same would be said about her.
He laughed and opened the door wider for her to step in. "Come on in, the name is Bucky. Bucky Barnes."
Hermione stepped into the small apartment and took a look around while Bucky shut the door behind her.
The 'apartment' was a singular room with a small kitchen on the right side with an adjoining room on the left that must have been a bathroom. Straight down the middle of the room was a clothes line with a large sheet over both sides that acted as a wall and the 'bedrooms' for both boys.
"Steve's my roommate, best friend, brother- So when he started getting letters from a mysterious dame from Midtown...I had questions, but Steve's been very hush-hush about it all," Bucky smiled.
Hermione held out her hand in introduction. "Well it's nice to finally meet you Bucky. Steve talks a lot about you too."
Bucky took her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles in greeting. Hermione blushed and Bucky grinned back wickedly. "Good to know the punk wasn't lying."
Hermione cleared her throat lightly and took back her appendage. "That he'd been writing to me?"
"That you're beautiful."
Hermione's blush probably rushed all the way down to her toes. Never had she been so brazenly flattered from neither wizard or muggle man before. She had no idea how to respond. She smiled weakly and motioned to the present in her arms. "Well I was just going to-"
Bucky tucked his hands into his jeans. "Steve's in the bathroom. Feel free to pull up a chair and wait 'till he's out; I'll let him know you're here." He motioned to the kitchen politely. "Do you want anything to drink? We've got water from the tap, and the milk should still be good." He motioned to the small icebox in the kitchen.
Hermione shook her head. "No that's alright, thank you." She didn't want to take anything she didn't need. Although Steve hadn't directly said it, Hermione knew both he and Bucky were always tight on money between the cost of living and Steve's consistent medicine needs.
"Alright hold on." Bucky walked to the bathroom door and pounded the wooden door shamelessly. "Ey! The door's for you punk!"
"Would you quit your- I heard you! I heard you!"
Bucky continued to mercilessly pound the bathroom door. "Come on, let's go Stevie-boy!"
Steve threw the bathroom door open, looking up at Bucky with narrowed eyes. His white long sleeve was rolled up to his elbows in the July heat and his black suspenders hung from his thin shoulders loosely. "Half the block coulda heard you Buck. What's with the-"
Steve saw past Bucky's figure and straight at Hermione near their door. Steve's jaw dropped and he unconsciously ran a hand through his golden blonde hair. "Hermione!"
Bucky sidestepped in front of Steve as he tried to get around the taller man, and Steve threw an elbow at his midsection. Bucky reared back in pretend hurt and Steve rolled his eyes as he got closer to her.
"I didn't know you were coming today!" Steve smiled at her..
Hermione shuffled the presents in her hands and presented the largest one to him first. "Well I wanted to say happy birthday, and to give this to you in person. I was going to get you charcoal or pencils for you to draw with, but after I saw the newspaper clippings during our last game in Ebbets, I thought I'd ought to get you this instead." She hefted the package to Steve and he grasped it with both hands, nearly dropping it in surprise from the weight.
"It's heavy," he acknowledged.
"Is it made of gold?" Bucky asked with a wink to her.
Hermione felt the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Open it." she said softly instead.
Steve took the present completely from Hermione's hands and stared at the bow she had placed on top of the brightly colored wrapping paper around it. He studied the red, white, and blue colors and the shape of her ribbon.
Bucky's lips twitched. "It's real pretty huh Steve? How about ya open it too?"
Steve flushed a rose red across his cheeks and carefully began to deconstruct the paper and bow.
Hermione realized that this was probably the first gift Steve had been given in a long time between his and Bucky's money situation and the loss of his parents years earlier. She felt grateful that she had chosen the wrapping paper and bow instead of the shop's generic bag that they had offered.
When the brown tweed suitcase appeared free of the wrapping paper, Bucky took a long whistle. "Look, it's for going on nice trips Steve!"
Steve hefted the suitcase up with one arm and looked at Hermione with nothing but appreciation. "Thanks Hermion-"
"Oh for heaven's sakes, there is something in the suitcase boys." She tipped her head. "If you please."
Steve flushed again, set the case on the kitchen counter, unlocked the switch on top, and revealed the black finished typewriter inside. Both boys stared at the gift with wide eyes.
"A portable typewriter," Bucky gawked with wide eyes.
"That's gotta cost- but, Hermione!" Steve whipped his head around.
"It's a gift," Hermione smiled slowly; not that it had been necessarily cheap. "When we read the newspaper clippings about the office assistants in Baumer's Lawyer Group at Ebbets field last, you said you always wanted to 'help the little guy'," Hermione said and crossed her arms in front of herself. "Well, here's a way in. They'll need someone who knows how to type write."
More importantly it would stop Steve from working at the docks, the mills, or the side of the streets. It would keep him from getting more sick, and away from fights.
Mildly selfish on Hermione's own part, she knew, but it had also been something that Steve's eyes had lit up about when they had shared a newspaper before the start of the baseball game. Baumer's Lawyer Group had a reputation for putting the small business owner, the underprivileged, the impoverished first, and stopping corruption in the big offices of Congress.
Steve had seen the job opening in the paper, smiled his brilliant smile, and then the rest wasn't really up to Hermione anymore.
"Hermione I don't know what-" Steve shook his head and clutched at his birthday gift with white fingers. "-Thank you."
"Of course," Hermione smiled, her own anxiety at the awed look on his face unbalancing her. "I know it's something you've wanted to try a hand at anyways. Maybe you can write a book and then illustrate your own writing."
Bucky slung an arm around Steve's shoulder. "Well wouldn't that be swell. Stevie, the littlest author in Brooklyn."
Steve guffawed and ducked out under from his friend, gift firmly in hand.
"Just you wait," the shorter of two men said back. "One day I'll make a difference out there."
There was a stillness in Bucky's stance that drew Hermione's eye as he smiled down at Steve. "Buddy, I know it. You're gonna do big things one day." He grinned and then winked at Hermione. "And now you've got a dame that knows it too."
Hermione couldn't see Steve's face as he ducked his head, but she watched as he turned to carefully set the large briefcase down on his side of the room. When he looked back up, the small smile that was settled across his lips seemed to momentarily blind Hermione. It was just so genuine. She could feel it down in her toes.
"And this is the second," Hermione handed him the smaller wrapped gift. It had no bow on it, but the brightly colored paper was still crisp around the edges.
Steve took is hesitantly and unfolded the sides.
Hermione watched as he removed the paper completely and held a green covered book in his hand.
"The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?" Steve read the cover with wide eyes.
"I know you've already got a copy, but you said it was falling apart at the seams. I thought I'd get you a newer one so you could go easier on the other copy." The copy that Steve's mother used to read from, she knew.
"That's really-" Steve started and looked down at the book cover again. He blinked several times. "I can't-"
"That was real sweet of you doll. Steve's always need'in a copy of that. It's one of his favorites," Bucky jumped in, saving Steve from having to try to say anything else.
I know it's his favorite.
"It's- They're both really great gifts Hermione, thank you," Steve said steadily and holding the book firmly in his hands.
She didn't want to squirm under his gaze, she was 28 years old for goodness sakes, but she clasped her hands in front of herself regardless. "Of course Steve, you're my friend."
"Then I'm the luckiest guy on this side of the States."
Bucky squeezed the back of Steve's neck in a playful manner and laughed when Steve nearly squawked at the pressure.
Hermione burst into laughter at the act and clapped her hands together.
Bucky grinned and let his friend go when Steve threw another elbow into his sternum. "Come on," Bucky laughed. "Let's get out of here birthday kid and friend. I know a place." He marched to the door and nodded at the others in the room. "But we gotta hurry if we wanna get the good stuff."
Hermione and Steve shared a look before they hurriedly followed after the tallest of them.
July 4th 1941
'The good stuff' ended up being ice cream from a new shop in Staten Island after a bus, ferry ride, and then to Hermione's insistence, a taxi cab ride later. The ice cream parlor was called Good Humors Ice Cream, and it sold the saltiest ice cream in New York for 5 cents a cone or 15 cents a pint.
"The joints just opened last month. A great time to open an ice cream parlor if you ask me," Bucky said, grinning at the massive amounts of people seated and the absolute chaos of orders being taken around them.
Hermione tugged the brim of her hat further down her forehead and ignored the familiar crawling sensation of having a hundred eyes on her, as she did with most places that held a large center of people. It was part of the traumatic stress she'd never been able to let roll off her shoulders after the war with Voldemort. She had found that if she was in the middle of a crowd, such as here, a presentation room in the SSR office, or at the baseball field, she couldn't bear to be in one place for longer than a couple of minutes. Usually, she desperately needed something sturdy to back against. Like a brick wall. Or a cement rise.
Bucky frowned down at her when someone brushed against her back and she flinched involuntarily. "What's got you so spooked doll?"
Steve's eyebrows came together over his peaches ice cream. "Are you okay?"
Hermione forced the spoon to hang loosely from her grip. "Fine, thank you. Crowds make me… uneasy."
Bucky's eyes swept the room and he lowered his own spoon. "Well I gotta say, you picked the wrong town to live in doll."
"Bucky!" Steve sputtered.
Hermione swallowed the smile emerging from his frank attitude. "You're probably right. I've avoided crowds. I can't exactly do that now that I'm living in America, especially in New York."
"Yeah. What made you skip home? Englands' not exactly next door," Bucky asked easily.
Steve abandoned his ice cream and glared at his best friend. "Bucky, don't. You don't have to answer that Hermione."
Bucky shrugged, and took another jab at his ice cream cup. "You never say anything about her Stevie. A guy can't be curious? You've only said that she's from 'cross the pond, smart, and beau-"
"We can go right now if you want Hermione. I've got enough money for a cab," Steve interrupted, red faced and frowning. "You don't have to say anything."
Hermione almost didn't. Peggy had prepared her for basic questions, but the sinking feeling of never seeing her family again was like falling through several stories of a building and trying to drag herself up from the heap of her landing. It hurt every time. She didn't want to drudge that up again.
But she had just been thinking of situations like this earlier. She needed to create a proper story if she wanted a life here. So Hermione did what she did best, and told them the facts, but with just a little bit of embellishing and white lies.
"No it's alright, you ought to know if we're to be friends." She met Bucky's eyes. "I can understand wanting to know more about someone who's just suddenly appeared. So, there's a War on you see, and I lost all of my friends and family in England. My home no longer exists, so there was no place to go back to," she said. Let them think it was the bombs.
Bucky lowered his eyes and away from her.
Steve swallowed. "I know we never talked or wrote about it before-" he glanced over to Bucky who was slowly stirring his melting ice cream with downcast eyes. "But is that why you work for the Army? Because of the War?"
Bucky looked up in surprise at Hermione, and felt her own surprise jolt through her. "How did you know that I worked for the Army?"
Steve fiddled with his spoon. "Well you never talk about your job in the letters or around me. It was clear you weren't in any sort of normal office as a secretary or something, you're too smart for that," he smiled nervously. "And every time the war was brought up in the papers or around us, you seemed to already know about it. I just kinda figured that's how you already knew. You worked for them. Intelligence or something."
"I'm sorry I asked," Bucky said to her with genuine eyes. "Wasn't my place."
Hermione accepted his apology. "Steve's right. I do work for a section of the US military. It's classified, so I can't talk to you about it, but it is the reason I left England."
The July sunlight through Steve's carefully combed blonde hair made his head look haloed by the shops window. "Are you going to go back? After the war?"
Hermione bit her lip. "Probably not. There's nothing left for me there."
Bucky stood up. "Then welcome to being a New Yorker." He grabbed her forgotten ice cream as well as Steve's and threw them into the bin next to them. "Let's get out of this crowd."
Hermione shared a look with Steve and they both stood up after Bucky.
The taller of the men used all 6'2 of his height to lead the navigation through the shops crowds with Hermione just a step behind him. No one touched her.
When the three of them made it far away enough from the shop and the warf that she could breathe easier again, Bucky turned around.
"I had no right to ask you personal questions like that. I'm sorry, it won't happen again." He looked her dead in the eye with his words and Hermione unfolded the arms she didn't know she had been holding around herself. "You don't want to do crowds? We don't do crowds. Ever again." He glanced at Steve and then back to her. "Now hurry up and accept my apology before Steve beats me up."
Hermione snorted a laughed and reached out to hug Bucky gently. He enveloped her back hesitantly. After stepping away and regarding both men standing before her, she smiled. "It didn't happen yesterday, what happened to my home. And I've heard that it helps to talk to friends about it. I'm okay. Although, I appreciate your apology."
Bucky hiked a thumb at her to Steve. "See punk? She accepted. Even got myself a new title too. Friend. Ain't never been a friend to a dame before."
Hermione laughed again and it looked like Steve was struggling not to roll his eyes.
The months passed.
Hermione and Steve continued their letters between social meetings, and Hermione decided to include Bucky in on writing him the occasional letter as well. Although most times he wouldn't respond to every part of the letter like Steve did, she began to get to know him too.
Steve took the portable type writer and used it with more office jobs. He was working fast at gaining the typing skill set that Baumer's Lawyer Group was looking for. Just a couple more weeks of odd jobs, Steve had assured Hermione, and he would apply for an assistant position.
On October 31st 1941, Hermione took Steve to see Dumbo the newest animated Disney movie, and Steve spent 5 cents on a package of new candy called M&Ms. They shared the small chocolaty circles through the movie, and Steve made sure to save her the last one.
On November 9th 1941, Hermione helped Steve sign up for an art class at the Brooklyn Museum Art School, just recently opened that summer, for classes on amateur landscaping and portraits. He walked Hermione to a cab after receiving his first supplies list that day, and kissed the back of her hand. Hermione smiled warmly at him and promised to write soon.
When she got back to her apartment with Peggy, she realized several things all at once.
First, the following day of Nov 10th, 1941 would be the first anniversary of her life in a different time and dimension. It meant that 365 days would have passed since her accident in the lab with the tesseract in her old life. It felt as if it had happened much longer ago than that, and in the same thought, not nearly long enough. She missed her life, her job, her friends, and little family she had built with Harry and Ron's own family and children. She'd been respected as a leader in her field, honored in her published work and with Voldemort's War, and adored as a godmother.
She missed those part of her life terribly, but also was in love with the life she was living.
Peggy was her closest friend, her best friend, the first girl best friend she had ever had. She cherished their conversations, the witty banter between them, the easy flow of conversation and information, and she adored the confidence that her friend exuded in everything she did.
Abraham was one of the most brilliant men she'd ever met, never mind that he was a muggle. But he had also been a father, and Hermione had learned how to mourn with him for his lost family, and then to remind him how to keep living. He was the mentor she had always wanted, and very slowly, he became closer to a father, or grandfather figure to her. Correcting her mistakes, listening to her theories, sharing his lessons and history over vodka shots or tea in the afternoons.
And their work was important. Hermione was changing the face of the war. If Abraham and her could accomplish what was needed, they would more than win the war, they would save millions of lives.
And Steve. Another one of her closest friends, although unexpected and cherished. The values in her life had been placed upside down in the new world she'd stepped into but Steve always seemed to have a way to make her feel like she was exactly where she needed to be. Like she was heard, and important, and wanted. Bucky was an unexpected addition to that as well, but she admired his easy confidence and ridiculous humor.
She missed her old life yes, but she loved what she had here as well. She didn't know if she could trade one for the other.
Secondly, Hermione was sure she had feelings for Steve.
She wasn't sure when they turned from admiring and trusting to warm and breathless, but she knew what a crush felt like, and Hermione thought she was even a little beyond that at this point. They had known each other for months now. They were friends, close friends. And Hermione knew that he was an honest, up-front, honorable, loyal, extremely noble, and an unfailingly dependable man, unlike anyone she had ever met before. His moral compass led him to stand up for things that his physical body could not withstand and it was humbling to talk to someone who knew that the best of you could change the world.
Yes, Hermione had a very deep crush. She had no idea what to do with it.
Thirdly, Hermione needed to talk to Colonel Phillips. She needed to talk to him now or to do something right now about it, and she felt sick to her stomach.
As she remembered that tomorrow would be November 10th 1941, it also meant that in less than a month, Pearl Harbor would be attacked and over 2,300 Americans would die. It would be the beginning of America entering World War Two, and the cost of over 400,000 lives that it would drag down with it.
She knew when it was going to happen, she knew where. She had to do something. To stop it. She had to.
Hermione threw up in the kitchen sink.